Since the late 1990s, my work has examined masculinity, not to celebrate or condemn it, but to hold it in view: its performance, its armour, its virility, and the vulnerability it works to conceal.
For many years I made objects and installations drawn from sport and other culturally coded environments that carry authority and spectacle. Stadiums, athletic equipment, protective gear, weapons, and vehicles became material. A gun capped and made pink to diminish aggression, or an athletic protector enlarged beyond function. A bat slumped in failure contrasts a slice of a muscle car presenting the imposing façade men project. Each exposes the fragility inside the performance of being manly.
These works examine how identity is rehearsed publicly. Increasingly, the work turns inward toward the cost of that rehearsal, using language and physical barriers to confront the suppression of vulnerability and the silence required to sustain it.
Short declarative phrases such as Grow a Set, You are the Stereotype, and Threat sit in space, often partially obscured. Vehicle grilles and fabricated screens intervene between viewer and word. A truck grille masks I Need Tenderness, while I’ve Told You Too Much sits behind a shield pierced with a confessional pattern.
These barriers are intentional. They mute the language, functioning as emotional armour and reflecting the toxic silence that keeps vulnerability out of view. Even Threat, obscured by delicate blue yarn, softens the language of danger, suggesting that what appears aggressive may also be fragile.
Language becomes something you encounter, not something you read. It does not resolve the tension between dominance and shame, usefulness and obsolescence, power and fear, or the male body read as force before it speaks.
Across sculpture, installation, and language-based works, structure and craft remain central. Precision, scale, and surface are inseparable from meaning, and carefully resolved forms contain unstable admissions.
After three decades, the work continues to ask what remains when performance falls away, and whether tenderness can surface within the masculine archetypes built to conceal it.